


making light

by susurruses (subsequence)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - High School, Halloween, House Party, M/M, Pining, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Underage Drinking, side 2jae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-06-14 05:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15381378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subsequence/pseuds/susurruses
Summary: Jinyoung hangs with the other fifth graders. There’s Mark, who’s scary because he’s so cool; there’s Jackson, who’s scary because he’s so loud; and then there’s Jaebum, who’s just plain scary. But then there’s Jinyoung, who doesn’t seem particularly scary at first. He seems soft and pretty and younger than the others, and Yugyeom's eight-year-old mind immediately pegs him as trustworthy and friendly.This turns out to be a terrible mistake.





	making light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onenightinbangkok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onenightinbangkok/gifts).



> **warning:** once we reach the high school portion of the fic, gyeom is fifteen and jinyoung is seventeen. there isn't any sexual content, but if people of that age kissing, dancing, and drinking makes you uncomfortable, feel free to peace out
> 
> **to the recipient:** i played around quite a bit with your prompt. i hope you don't mind! i ended up having a lot of fun with this and i hope you'll enjoy it as much as i did ♡

Jinyoung hangs with the other fifth graders. There’s Mark, who’s scary because he’s so cool; Jackson, who’s scary because he’s so loud; and Jaebum, who’s just plain scary. But then there’s Jinyoung, who doesn’t seem particularly scary at first. He seems soft and pretty and younger than the others, and Yugyeom's eight-year-old mind immediately pegs him as trustworthy and friendly.

This turns out to be a terrible mistake.

Yugyeom has only ever seen Jinyoung at church and at school, where he has all the adults wound around his finger and he's only a bright smile away from getting what he wants. Teacher's pet, altar boy, golden child — the world loves Jinyoung, and it feels only natural for Yugyeom to follow suit.

So when their church has a weekend retreat right before Halloween — mostly to keep the kids from getting into actual mischief — and Yugyeom sees the van sign-up sheet, he tries to be sneaky as he searches for the one with Jinyoung's name. He hesitates for a second when he sees Jinyoung's whole fifth-grade gang there — Bambam told him once that Jaebum killed a man and that's why he's in anger management classes — but he tells himself that they've never bothered him, so he should be fine, right?

Once he gets in the van, though, Yugyeom starts to question his decision. There aren’t any other third graders, just him and Jinyoung’s posse of fifth graders.

Hope flares inside him when Jinyoung climbs into the van and his gaze lands on Yugyeom; he swears the older boy’s eyes light up with something he can't quite define.

“Jin — ” he starts, but he can’t even finish saying his name before Jinyoung is already turning toward the back of the van and getting caught up in chattering with the other boys. Yugyeom wilts in the passenger seat and tries not to pout.

He isn't sure what he expected. It's not like he's given Jinyoung any sign that he wants to be friends other than signing up for the same bus as him and glancing at him with starry eyes when the boy's back is turned. Still, he can't help but feel discouraged and a little lonely, slumped over in his seat next to one of the youth pastors while the fifth graders act all cool in the back.

When they reach the camp, it seems like the universe is trying to punish Yugyeom endlessly for his naivete. He has to stop himself from sulking when he finds out that the groups they rode in the van with are going to be their cabins for the weekend. Maybe it'll be good, he tries to tell himself. Maybe it'll give him more time to show Jinyoung that he's actually worth being friends with.

The activities are boring. They’re guided into an activities center that smells vaguely of mildew and isn’t heated as well as it should be. It's the same stuff they used to do as kindergartners — cutting out and coloring ghosts and pumpkins, spooky stories told by the youth pastors that aren't actually scary, and Hocus Pocus projected on the painted cinderblock walls so the witches' noses look even wonkier than usual. It makes Yugyeom miss Bambam, and he doodles on his own arms and thighs in magic marker to stop himself from falling asleep. By the time they're being shuttled off to sleep in the cabins, Yugyeom can't even complain about the early bedtime. He's so bored at this point that he's looking forward to sleeping.

And that's when he remembers what exactly he's signed himself up for.

"I can't believe they're making us sleep so early," Jaebum complains as Yugyeom shuffles over to the free bottom bunk in the corner. Mark's already claimed the one single, sprawled out on his back and tapping around on his phone. Yugyeom feels a curl of envy, but tries to remind himself that even a lot of the fifth graders don't have their own phones; Mark's parents are just that loaded.

"Just 'cause we're in our bunks doesn't mean we have to sleep, stupid," Mark replies.

"Well, what the hell else are we gonna do?" Jaebum demands. Yugyeom curls into his corner, intimidated. Jaebum is so tall and he's already shaped more like a middle schooler, and when he curses it reminds Yugyeom of the time he went to the high school for a choir concert and saw teenagers smoking in the parking lot.

"It's Halloween," Jackson offers from the bunk above Jaebum. "We could do scary stories."

Jaebum rolls his eyes. "Didn't you get enough of that already?"

"Come _on._ " In a daring move that makes Yugyeom's life flash before his eyes, Jackson takes his pillow and wallops Jaebum on the side of the head below him. "I guess if you're scared, you can just be a baby and go to sleep — "

"What'd you call me?" Jaebum stands up on the bottom bunk to try to grab at his assailant, but Jackson scrambles back across the sheets, hooting with laughter.

"Calm down," Jinyoung says, sounding bored. He's seated on Mark's bed — which means he still has yet to claim a bunk, Yugyeom realizes. Which _means_ he's going to be sharing a bunk bed with Jinyoung. Which isn't actually that big of a deal, except maybe it's a sign from the universe? Like there's some kind of cosmic power out there that doesn't want this trip to be a total bust for Yugyeom. He sends up a little prayer to heaven, just in case. And then he covers his bases by thanking any other beings he can think of, like the ones he saw in Hercules. Better safe than sorry, he figures.

Jaebum hops down from where he’s trying to terrorize Jackson and looks at Jinyoung incredulously. “You really want to tell stupid stories?”

“Not stupid ones,” Jinyoung replies in a condescending tone like it should be obvious, drawing a scowl from Jaebum. “Have a little imagination, Jaebum.”

“Yeah, Jaebum,” Jackson parrots before shrieking and receding back into his corner when Jaebum gives him a threatening look.

“Stop trying to kill Jackson,” Mark drawls, not looking up from his phone. “It’s not a bad idea, as long as no one tells lame stories.”

Yugyeom watches the four older boys in silent awe, feeling a bit like that Jane-something lady who studied monkeys that his mom watched a documentary about last week. They’re new and exciting, but Yugyeom can’t tell where he fits in with them, and the way they speak to each other is so rapid-fire it leaves his head spinning.

“Fine, then,” Jaebum says, sitting heavily on the bunk and glowering at the other boys. “Tell a not-lame story.”

“Why’s it gotta be me?” Mark grouses. “It was Jackson’s idea.”

“Well, Jackson can’t tell the story,” Jaebum points out. “You know how he goes off on tangents.”

“I’ll tell it,” Jinyoung says. “God, you guys are so dumb.”

“Hey.” Mark looks up from his phone for the first time just to kick Jinyoung in the thigh. “Don’t be a jerk.”

"I'm not being a jerk," Jinyoung retorts. "I'm just telling the truth."

"Your words really cut deep, Jinyoungie," Jackson chimes in. "Honestly, I don't think I'm ever gonna recover."

"Whatever." Jinyoung rolls his eyes. "Do you wanna hear a story or not?"

"Please," Jackson says with over-exaggerated graciousness. "Tell us a story."

Jinyoung pulls a face at him, but settles down into Mark’s bunk and picks up a flashlight. "Turn off the light," he orders Jaebum, who actually gets up and follows Jinyoung's instructions, to Yugyeom's shock. "There's no point in telling scary stories with the lights on."

"Ooh, Jinyoungie's trying to be _scary,_ " Jackson teases, and he and Mark share a giggle.

"Are you gonna listen or not?" Jinyoung asks crossly. He waits for the other boys to settle down and then clicks the flashlight on, holding it under his chin and casting his face into almost skeletal shadows.

"It was late at night," Jinyoung starts, and his voice changes drastically, sounding harsher and darker than his usual sweet tones. It sends an involuntary shiver down Yugyeom's spine. "And a kid was out walking alone."

"Well, there's your first mistake," Mark mutters, and Jinyoung shoots him a glare. He looks all the more terrifying with the way the light seems to skip over his eyes, leaving them in sunken shadow.

"So this kid was out walking alone at night," Jinyoung repeats. "And he turned down an empty side street. When he looked up, there was a woman standing at the end of the street wearing a red surgical mask." He draws his fingers across his cheeks as if he's illustrating the story.

Yugyeom's breath hitches in his throat. _Why?_ he wants to ask, but he feels like he can't speak while Jinyoung has the floor.

"The woman walked up to him. He couldn’t see any of her face because of the mask and her hair hanging down, and he stopped walking. But she kept coming closer...and closer...and closer….” Jinyoung leans forward each time he repeats the word, and Yugyeom finds himself mirroring him, leaning in even though his heart is pounding.

“He was frozen to the spot,” Jinyoung whispers into the dark. “And she was right there in front of him, and he realized she was holding a big, old, rusted pair of scissors. Like they use to cut people’s skin open in hospitals.”

Yugyeom didn’t even know they cut people open with scissors in hospitals. Maybe Jinyoung is making it up, he thinks, but it doesn’t make the image any less horrifying. There’s no banter now to distract him either, no funny back-and-forth between the fifth graders for Yugyeom to watch like a four-way tennis match. They’ve all fallen quiet, the tone of the room sober, a silent canvas for Jinyoung to paint his story.

“And that,” Jinyoung says, “is when the woman spoke to him.”

“What’d she say?” Mark asks. His joking demeanor is gone and he’s sat up in the bed next to Jinyoung.

Jinyoung smirks. “She asked him, ‘Do you think I’m pretty?’ And the kid didn’t know what to say. So she held the scissors up to his face” — Jinyoung lifts the flashlight up to his own face, features thrown into even less human twists of shadow and light. — “and she asked him again. ‘Do you think I’m pretty?’”

“What’d he say?” Jackson asks. He’s hanging half off the top bunk now, eyes wide as he stares at Jinyoung.

“What do you think he said?” Jinyoung replies.

“He should say yes, obviously,” Jaebum says gruffly. He sounds normal, but his jaw is tense in a way that gives away how freaked out he is. “If he says no, she’s gonna try to kill him or something, right?”

Jinyoung cocks his head. “Do you think he said yes?” he addresses the others.

“Just tell the story, Jinyoung,” Mark says harshly, but his eyes are wary.

“Okay, so the kid said yes,” Jinyoung relents. “And she reached up and pulled down the mask. And do you know what was underneath?”

Yugyeom’s chest feels tight in anticipation like he’s barely even breathing, hanging off of Jinyoung’s every word.

“Her mouth,” Jinyoung says gleefully, “was sliced open from one ear to the other.” He slashes violently across his own face with his finger, his grin looking maniacal.

The sound of rustling blankets breaks the heavy silence, everyone shifting uneasily at the gruesome description, but no one speaks. Jinyoung has their full attention, for better or for worse.

“And she asked him again,” Jinyoung continues. “‘Do you think I’m pretty?’ And the kid says, ‘yes,’ again. And she says, ‘Wouldn’t you like to be pretty too, then?’”

The room is dead silent, so oppressively quiet Yugyeom swears he can hear the pounding of his own heart.

“So she takes the scissors and grabs him by the chin and — ”

“Why doesn’t he just run away?” Jaebum bursts out, seemingly angry but for the way his shoulders are curled in.

“He does,” Jinyoung replies. “He turns and tries to run away down the alley, except….”

“Except what?” Mark asks.

The flashlight flickers out in Jinyoung’s hand, leaving them in darkness as he whispers, “Except….”

And then Jinyoung’s face is thrown into horrifying relief by the flashlight again, except now he’s leaped up from the bed as he yells, “ _She reappears right in front of him and grabs him by the throat!_ ”

At the same time as Jinyoung jumps up from the bed, there’s an unearthly shriek and Yugyeom hits his head on the top bunk from how high he jumps, his throat too closed up in fear to even make a noise.

But it’s just Jackson screaming at the story, falling out of his bunk and dragging his blanket down with him. His voice is lost in the sound of Jinyoung, Mark, and Jaebum howling in laughter. They pile on top of Jackson, wrapping the blanket tighter around him as he thrashes and screeches at them to _get off, I hate you, I hate you all, I’m gonna kick all your butts when I’m out of here —_

Yugyeom curls up in his bottom bunk, hidden in the shadows and off to the side, mercifully spared from their attention. They seem to like being mean to each other for sport, which doesn’t really surprise him when it comes to the oldest three; but when he looks at Jinyoung, grinning as they smother Jackson with the blankets, he feels surprised.

Disappointed, if he’s honest.

He’d figured out already that Jinyoung isn’t what he’d thought he was before the retreat, but he’d still thought that he was different in some way. He feels different to Yugyeom somehow, like for all his flashy talk with the fifth graders, there’s something softer underneath that he can’t define. But he can’t find any proof of it that he can hold up to himself as a concrete reason to keep wanting to be his friend. It’s nothing more than a gut feeling, and as he watches Jinyoung melt into the mass of thrashing limbs and howling boys, Yugyeom isn’t sure what to believe.

It’s at this moment that Jinyoung looks up and meets Yugyeom’s gaze. Yugyeom thinks his eyes narrow, but he isn’t sure. He’s too caught up in how dark and clever they seem instead, like shadows Yugyeom can’t quite distinguish, and he finds himself forgetting his misgivings. Jinyoung just seems so… _interesting,_ like Yugyeom can’t help himself from falling in.

Even if he isn’t what Yugyeom thought he was on the surface, maybe there’s still more to him than he’s showing in front of the other fifth graders. Maybe Yugyeom still has a chance. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll be worth taking.

Jinyoung looks away soon enough, but Yugyeom feels like the weight of his scrutiny doesn’t leave.

Jackson eventually fends the other boys off and crawls back up to the safety of his bunk, leaving Mark, Jinyoung, and Jaebum in a panting, giggling heap on the floor. They’re whispering and laughing, and Yugyeom feels an ugly spike of jealousy drive through his stomach. He pulls his knees up to his chest, tries to ignore the sound of their overlapping voices, and curses himself for being so stupid as to think that Jinyoung would actually want to be friends with a kid.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by someone clearing their throat right in front of him. Yugyeom starts and looks up uncertainly, only to feel his heart nearly stop in his chest.

"Yugyeom," Jinyoung says, his voice kind and his eyes warm. It’s such a sharp contrast to the terrifying persona he’d taken on while telling the story, and Yugyeom feels himself start to melt again. "That's your name, right?"

"Y-Yeah," Yugyeom stammers. He can't believe Park Jinyoung knows his name.

"Gyeom-ah," Jinyoung says, and the nickname makes Yugyeom giddy. "Why don't you go ahead and shower first? Since you're the baby."

"I'm not a baby," Yugyeom says stubbornly.

"But you're the youngest."

"I'm not a _baby,_ though," Yugyeom insists. He can feel the other fifth graders eyeing their conversation and he bites back the urge to pout. Especially after seeing how close they all are, he wants so desperately for them to think he's cool. He isn’t sure why. It’s not like he even really likes the others that much, but there’s something about the aura they give off that makes him want them to like him anyway.

"It's okay to be a baby," Jinyoung says soothingly. "Being a baby means you get to shower alone instead of having to worry about the rest of us. I can tell you're scared of Jaebum. It would suck to have to shower with him, wouldn't it?" He leans in and adds in a whisper, "Plus, he smells anyway."

Yugyeom giggles nervously. He's pretty sure Jinyoung is joking. Right?

"Anyway, you can have first shower by yourself if you want." Jinyoung shrugs and starts to turn away. "Unless you just think you're too good for it — "

"No!" Yugyeom says hastily. "No, I don't think that."

“Are you sure?” Jinyoung asks.

“Yes,” Yugyeom insists, more out of a need to prove himself to Jinyoung than out of an actual desire to shower alone.

This is how Yugyeom finds himself trudging alone to the showers with his pajamas and towel in tow.

He hadn’t realized it was already so dark outside, the sun long sunken below the horizon, or he doesn’t know if he would’ve taken Jinyoung up on his offer. Then again, he might’ve done it anyway just because it was Jinyoung.

The problem is that the showers aren’t in their cabin; they’re at the end of the clearing in their own separate building, so close to trees that branches brush against the short windows at the top. They scratch against the panes, eerily lit up against the dark night like pale grasping fingers reaching out of the yawning night sky.

As Yugyeom strips down and sets his clothes and towel on the bench outside the shower stall, he eyes his surroundings nervously. The only light inside the showers is a row of fluorescent lights that have seen better days. Half of them are out, leaving the showers cast in jagged swathes of dark and light not so different from Jinyoung’s face above the flashlight. Remembering the story makes Yugyeom shudder. He cranks the shower handle to douse himself in hot water and chase off the goosebumps suddenly covering his body.

There's a rustle outside of the shower and Yugyeom jumps, clutching the soap to his chest as if it'll protect him against the woman Jinyoung had been so gleefully describing in the cabin. He's being stupid, he scolds himself. It’s just the trees, not anything or anyone coming to get him. Jinyoung’s stories are just that, stories, and only babies would get scared by something that isn't real —

But the hairs on Yugyeom's arms stand on end as more sinister noises start creeping in from beyond the shower curtain. There's the screech of a hinge, the scrape of the ill-fitted door against the floor, and a rustle Yugyeom can't identify. Even as warm water cascades over him, he feels frozen as fear grips his heart with icy tendrils, pulse pounding so hard it hurts. As the sounds come closer, he feels like he can't even breathe.

Should he open the shower curtain and see what's coming for him? Surely, he shouldn't just stand here and wait for whatever it is to attack him. He should stand up for himself, be a man, but his skinny shoulders shake and his hands stay locked around the soap as he tries to swallow down the panic rising in his throat.

What would Jinyoung think if he saw Yugyeom sniveling in a corner like this? He'd think he was just a stupid third grader, just a baby — and what's even worse is that he'd be right.

Just as he steels himself to reach for the shower curtain and pull it aside, though, the lights go out and Yugyeom is left in pitch black.

Panic rises in his chest and he tries to scream, but all that comes out is a whimper. Even without Jinyoung’s stories, even without the creepy setting, even without it being Halloween weekend, this is Yugyeom’s worst nightmare — the dark has always been his greatest fear, more than ghosts or monsters. He flails around, trying to find something to hold onto, and smacks his hand into the shelf for soap, leaving it stinging and raw. Tears burn down his cheeks and he chokes on a sob.

When he finally finds his voice, it scrapes out of his throat, jagged and thick with fear.

“Help!” he cries out, desperate for anyone to hear him. “Help, please, someone — ”

And then he hears a noise completely different from the ones before.

Laughter. The same laughter that had accompanied Jackson’s fall from the top bunk.

His stomach sinks, fear replaced with the sting of humiliation and hurt.

“Guys?” he croaks. “Guys, this isn’t funny! Turn the light back on!”

All he gets in response is more laughter and the slam of the door to the showers, leaving him alone in the dark.

Yugyeom lifts a shaking hand and pulls back the shower curtain. Thankfully, the windows at the top of the showers let in enough moonlight that he can grope his way along the walls to the light switch by the door, shivering and dripping water on the floor as he goes. He’s still sniffling, the fear still fresh in his body even though his brain knows there’s nothing to fear except fifth-grade bullies.

When he does manage to flick the light switch and turn back to the bench, he almost starts crying again. His towels and clothes are gone, leaving him with no choice but to walk back to the cabin bare and wet. He lets himself take a few shaky breaths for strength before he opens the door and dashes as quickly as he can back to safety — if he can call it that, considering what’s waiting for him.

“Streaker!” Mark hoots as Yugyeom tears through the doorway and toward his bunk in the corner.

“Have a nice shower?” Jaebum asks, and Yugyeom shoots him a glare before he snatches up his towel from where they dumped it on his bunk.

“You’re bullies,” Yugyeom snaps. “You all suck.”

“Aw, come on,” Jackson wheedles. “We were just having some fun, kid.”

“Leave me alone.” Yugyeom pulls on his pajamas as quickly as he can even though he’s not fully dry. “I don’t want to talk to any of you.” He lifts his chin to gaze defiantly at the top bunk where Jinyoung is staring down at him. “And especially not you,” he says with as much vitriol as he can muster in his tiny body. “You’re the worst one.”

“Oh, did you hear that, Jinyoung?” Mark asks mockingly. “You’re the _worst._ ”

Jinyoung doesn’t respond. He simply looks at Yugyeom with wide eyes, as if he isn’t sure how to respond to this eight-year-old calling him cruel.

Yugyeom sniffs and crawls into his bunk, pulling the covers over his head and hiding beneath them even though it’s claustrophobic and hot. He stays there, waiting for the older boys to lose interest. Eventually, they do, showering themselves and then crawling into their own bunks and turning out the light. Yugyeom is left lying there, trying to control his breathing even as he wants to cry again because he feels so _stupid_ for trusting them and especially for falling for Jinyoung’s sweet words. It’s so obvious in hindsight that Jinyoung was being too nice to him by offering him the first shower, but he’d just — he’d wanted Jinyoung to mean it so badly. He’d wanted to believe it was real more than anything.

He hiccups a little and sniffles against his pillow. He really is a baby, and a dumb one at that.

"Are you crying?"

And here's the last person Yugyeom wants to see, poking his head over the side of the top bunk and peering at him.

The question seems like it should be mocking, or curious at least, but it almost sounds kind. It’s almost worse than if Jinyoung was just being mean again. This sounds too much like Jinyoung calling him _Gyeom-ah_ again.

Yugyeom swipes hastily at his face, painfully aware of how puffy and snotty he must look. "No," he croaks. "Go away."

There's silence for a moment, and then Jinyoung murmurs, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"What did you think was going to happen?" Yugyeom grumbles. "And I told you, I'm not crying."

"I just thought it would be funny." Jinyoung sounds slightly stunned by the fact that he's hurt, and it makes Yugyeom wonder if maybe the older boy is just a little dumb sometimes. "Mark said it would be funny."

"Yeah, they all thought it was funny." Yugyeom wraps his blanket tighter around himself even though he isn't cold. "Great for you."

A groan comes from the other side of the room and Jaebum grouses, "Can whoever's talking shut _up?_ "

And even though Yugyeom doesn't care anymore about impressing the older boys, he is still a little scared — okay, maybe a lot scared — of Jaebum, so he falls silent and hopes that Jinyoung will do the same.

But after a few beats, Jinyoung addresses him again. His voice sounds very small, about as small as Yugyeom feels. "It was just supposed to be a joke."

Yugyeom doesn't give him an answer, shoving his face into his pillow. He'd been so insistent with his mom about not bringing his stuffed giraffe toy. Only babies still sleep with those, he'd told her, but now he wishes more than anything he could bury his face in its comforting softness and forget about cruel fifth graders and consuming darkness.

He hears the bed frame creak followed by the sound of feet on the ladder and he tenses. When Jinyoung stands before the bottom bunk, Yugyeom glares balefully up at him, hoping he can feel the sourness of his expression even if he can't see it in the low light.

"What do you want?" he asks angrily.

Instead of speaking, Jinyoung moves to kneel on the mattress next to him, and Yugyeom flinches back, unsure of what the older boy is planning.

By the little moonlight that manages to make it through the dirty windows, Yugyeom can see Jinyoung's eyes widen before he bites his lip and looks down.

"It was just supposed to be a joke," he whispers again, but this time his inflection tilts up at the end, like it's a question.

Yugyeom turns toward the wall so his back is facing Jinyoung and wraps the blankets tightly around himself. The mattress dips behind him. There's shuffling and the rush of cool air as a corner of his blanket is lifted, and then a wiry but warm body is under the covers with him.

Yugyeom props himself up on his elbows to glare at Jinyoung and snaps, "I _said,_ what do you _want?_ "

"Keep it down," Jinyoung hisses. "You'll wake the others."

"I'll scream if you try any more jokes," Yugyeom warns. "You're not funny, Jinyoung. Your sense of humor sucks."

"Don't scream," Jinyoung says hastily. "And no more jokes."

Yugyeom isn't sure if he's ready to believe him yet — after all, it'd been Jinyoung who had used that sweet smile and a cute nickname to lure Yugyeom into the older boys' trap — but he lets himself lie back down against the mattress, albeit facing Jinyoung this time so he can watch him warily.

Jinyoung watches him back, the glimmer of his eyes barely distinguishable in the shadows of the bottom bunk. "Did we really scare you so bad you cried?" he asks.

"I didn't cry," Yugyeom says stubbornly.

There's movement in the dark and then something is touching Yugyeom's face, and he really does almost scream; but the touch is gone as quickly as it appeared, and Yugyeom belatedly recognizes the feeling of fingers against his wet cheek.

He's about to whine some more about Jinyoung being creepy when the older boy whispers, "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," Yugyeom pouts. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Jinyoung's voice rises a bit too much, and there's a curse from Jaebum's direction. Yugyeom doesn't even know some of the words Jaebum says sometimes, but he gets the gist — _shut up._

Jinyoung huffs and then repeats more quietly, "I'm not lying. Seriously, I'm not."

"Why should I believe you?" Yugyeom asks.

Jinyoung hesitates. "I — I'll stay with you, if you want. Tonight. I won't let the other guys do anything to you."

"How do I know this isn't just another set-up?" Yugyeom demands.

"I swear," Jinyoung pleads. "I'll spit shake on it."

Yugyeom sniffs, but considers the seriousness of the situation. "Only if you for real spit shake on it," he finally says. "Right now, no crossed fingers, no take-backs."

"Deal," Jinyoung says immediately. There's the rustle of blankets and the distinctive sound of a loogie being hocked and then fingertips are poking at Yugyeom's chest. "You gotta do it too."

Yugyeom does the same, holding out a dripping palm and meeting Jinyoung's in a slimy clasp.

"Gross," Jinyoung mutters.

"Say what you're promising," Yugyeom insists.

"I already told you what I — "

"Say it," Yugyeom repeats. "Or the deal's off and you got drool on my sheets for nothing."

Jinyoung scoffs, but then reluctantly adds, "I promise I'll protect you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“And you’re not gonna do anything yourself, either,” Yugyeom adds.

“And I’m not gonna do anything myself, either,” Jinyoung repeats dutifully.

Yugyeom nods, satisfied that the deed is done, and settles back down. The bunk is pretty small, even considering that they’re not full-grown, and Jinyoung’s knobby knees bump against his own.

“Can I ask you something?” Jinyoung whispers.

“Depends what it is,” Yugyeom replies. “I still don’t trust you yet.”

“But I promised,” Jinyoung pouts.

“Well.” Yugyeom wavers. Jinyoung really does seem sorry, and he still sounds so awfully soft that it tugs at something inside of his tummy. “I guess,” he says reluctantly. “You can ask me something.”

“What was it that made you cry?” Jinyoung asks. “Was it — Were we really that mean?” He sounds like he doesn’t even want to ask, like the guilt of the question alone is painful to him.

“No,” Yugyeom says. “I mean, you were really mean, but that’s not why I was crying.”

“Yeah?” Jinyoung sounds relieved. “Then what was it?”

“It was...nothing.” Embarrassment flushes hot through Yugyeom’s cheeks as he remembers how much he’d panicked at the light going out. Even now, he doesn’t want to sound stupid in front of Jinyoung.

“It wasn’t nothing if it made you cry.” Yugyeom swears he can hear the frown in Jinyoung’s voice. “I — We weren’t trying to make you cry. We really thought it’d just be funny, ‘cause we do stuff like that to each other all the time — ”

Yugyeom thinks of how they’d dogpiled on Jackson, their own friend, and wound him up in his blankets so he couldn’t escape. It makes a little more sense when he thinks of it like that.

“I’ll tell you,” Yugyeom says. “I’ll tell you why I cried, but you have to promise not to laugh, okay?”

“Promise,” Jinyoung says seriously.

Yugyeom huffs out a nervous breath. “It was — I’m scared of the dark,” he admits. “Like, really really scared.”

“Oh.” Jinyoung huffs out a sound that’s almost a laugh and it immediately raises Yugyeom’s hackles.

He pokes Jinyoung’s arm. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Jinyoung protests. “Or at least, I don’t think it’s stupid that you’re scared of the dark. Lots of people are.”

“Really?” Yugyeom asks.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung replies. He leans in a little closer; it’s dark enough that the main way Yugyeom can tell is because he can feel the warmth of Jinyoung’s breath when he whispers, “Jaebum is scared of the dark, too. But don’t tell him I told you that.”

Yugyeom giggles, trying to muffle the sound in his hands. It doesn’t seem like it could be real, big scary Im Jaebum afraid of the dark, but even if Jinyoung is just making it up, he’s making it up to make Yugyeom feel better. It’s the kind of thing he’d imagined Jinyoung would do before this trip went so downhill.

“He’s really not bad,” Jinyoung murmurs. “And Mark and Jackson aren’t either. I know they’re kinda...rough sometimes.”

“They’re scary,” Yugyeom insists.

“They are at first,” Jinyoung says. “But really, it’s just — that’s how they have fun, you know?”

“By bullying third graders?”

“No, by like — joking around. With everyone, not just you.” Jinyoung sighs. “It was just supposed to be a joke, but then you were crying and I — I’m really sorry, Yugyeom.”

Yugyeom stays silent for a moment and then says quietly, “Thanks.” Before Jinyoung can say anything more, he adds, “Let’s just go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Jinyoung sits up and lies down again with his back to Yugyeom, positioned like some kind of guard dog against whatever might come. He’s facing away, his words a little muffled when he next speaks, but they still send a rush of warmth through Yugyeom’s chest. “I’ll protect you. Like I promised.”

And something about that, something about the way this whole conversation with Jinyoung has gone, something about the way he sought Yugyeom out to apologize — maybe it’s just Yugyeom being a dumb baby again, but he can practically feel the stars in his own eyes when he looks at Jinyoung’s back, lying there and protecting Yugyeom. Like he promised.

He feels surprisingly at ease with Jinyoung there. Even with some butterflies in his stomach, it’s not as bad as his fear from before of messing up in front of the older boys or the need to impress them.

Maybe, he thinks as he drifts off to sleep, he wasn’t so wrong about Jinyoung after all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Yugyeom wakes up the next morning, it’s to the rap of someone’s knuckles against the door and a call to get down to breakfast soon if they want to eat.

He also wakes up to an empty bed.

He blinks, running his hand over the spot where Jinyoung had been last night — or maybe he hadn’t been? — but there’s no warmth, no indentation, no covers pulled back to show any sign of Jinyoung having been there.

Yugyeom bites his lip. Surely, he hadn’t dreamed it. It had felt too good to be true, but he couldn’t have made up the jab of Jinyoung’s knees into his legs or the clasp of their hands or the warmth of Jinyoung’s voice when he’d said _I’ll protect you._

Right?

He hears creaking and rustling and then Jinyoung climbs down from the top bunk. Yugyeom waits with bated breath for Jinyoung to turn toward him, smile at him, say something, just give _any_ kind of acknowledgment that Yugyeom hadn’t made it all up in his head.

But he’s steadily ignored in favor of Jinyoung kicking Mark’s bed and telling him to get up, the other boys rousing themselves eventually and settling into their typical banter and playful violence.

Yugyeom tries not to shrink in on himself as he changes out of his pajamas and into his day clothes. He doesn’t know what’s real. The Jinyoung in front of him, teasing and fighting with the other fifth graders, the one who’d played him so cleverly to get him to fall into their trap? Or the Jinyoung who had climbed into bed with him and made a promise to protect him? Does the second Jinyoung even exist outside his imagination?

“Come on, let’s get going,” Jinyoung says, and Yugyeom looks up automatically and — he swears their eyes meet. He swears Jinyoung is checking on him, beckoning him, and his heart leaps in his chest.

But then the moment is over and Jackson is slinging his arm over Jinyoung’s shoulder, and Yugyeom is left trailing behind them as they walk to the rec center.

Once he’s gotten his food, Yugyeom looks for an open spot as far away from his cabin mates as he can. His eyes land on a bench that’s empty save for a boy who looks more his age, and he makes a beeline for it.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” he asks timidly.

The boy looks up and gives him a friendly smile that immediately puts him at ease. Thank god he’s made at least one good decision on this trip.

“Go ahead,” he says, scooting his tray down to make space for Yugyeom. “I’m Youngjae.”

“Yugyeom,” he replies as he takes his seat.

Youngjae jerks his head to indicate the table Jinyoung and his friends have taken. “Why’d you walk in with them?”

“They’re in my cabin,” Yugyeom answers. He thinks for a moment and then lies, “There weren’t any other spots left on the sign-up sheets, so I got stuck with them.”

Youngjae makes a sympathetic noise. “They’re scary,” he whispers. “I’m sorry you ended up with them.”

Yugyeom watches them elbowing and snapping at each other, laughing even as they try to pour syrup down each other’s shirts.

“Yeah,” he says, and this — this he isn’t sure is a lie. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The problem is that as the years pass, the memory of that night should fade into obscurity, should leave maybe a temporary wave of displeasure when Yugyeom remembers it, but little else. Maybe it does, to some extent. It’s not like he’s got a crush on Jinyoung, no matter what Youngjae says. It’s not like he’s gagging for him like a sorry lovesick bastard either, no matter what Bambam says.

It’s just _there._ And Yugyeom should forget it, on at least a surface level _wants_ to forget it. But it’s so difficult when it seems like every time he’s resolved to leave Jinyoung firmly in the past, he’ll do something small, something almost imperceptible, and Yugyeom finds himself wondering after the boy who’d crawled into his bunk and promised to protect him all those years ago.

It’s in the little things. It’s how Jinyoung always seems to be sitting on the study hall monitor’s desk chatting up a storm as Yugyeom slinks into his seat after the bell’s already rung. It’s how Yugyeom can sometimes feel upperclassmen’s attention fall on him for a second in the cafeteria only to be drawn away by Jinyoung making a caustic remark about someone else. It’s in how Jinyoung’s service period in the library always seems to line up with Yugyeom’s late fees disappearing without a trace.

It’s always the same. Not enough for Yugyeom to be sure, but enough for him to still wonder — if that night in the cabin really happened, which actions of Jinyoung’s he’s supposed to trust, if his eyes would go wide with shock or crinkle into a smile if Yugyeom gave in and kissed him —

Okay, maybe he’s got a crush on Jinyoung.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Halloween of his sophomore year when everything finally comes to a head.

“Seriously, Bam?” Yugyeom complains. “I thought we were doing a superheroes theme this year, not strippers.”

“Excuse the _fuck_ out of you,” Bambam replies, scandalized. “Selina Kyle is an icon. Catwoman could beat your ass and make you thank her afterward.”

“You almost sound straight when you talk like that,” Youngjae says from where he’s lying on the bed, head hanging upside-down off the edge.

“I don’t need to like pussy to appreciate Catwoman,” Bambam sniffs. “That’s the kind of pussy everyone likes.”

Yugyeom snorts. “Like you’d know anything about that.”

“Excuse me?” Bambam places his hand on his hip. “Am I receiving constructive criticism from Antman?”

“Antman is cool!” Yugyeom protests.

Bambam snorts. “Your power is stupid. What’re you gonna do? Crawl up someone’s ass in ant size and then make them explode?”

Youngjae howls with amusement, smacking Bambam so hard on the arm that he hits him right back.

“Well, Jinyoung’s in trouble then,” Youngjae barely manages through bursts of laughter. “Since Yugyeom lives up his ass.”

“I _don’t,_ ” Yugyeom whines. “When are you guys gonna let it go?”

“Whenever you do, honey,” Bambam replies with a pitying little smile that makes Yugyeom just want to whine more. “Whenever you do."

The bickering follows them even as they walk through Bambam’s neighborhood. They’re practically the only high schoolers still going through with the ritual, but Yugyeom will be damned if he passes up on free candy, no matter how many slightly judgmental stares he gets from adults. They’re Bambam’s neighbors anyway, not his.

“What even are you again?” Bambam asks, switching his nearly full bucket to his other hand so he can poke at Youngjae’s fake foam pectoral. “And why do you have tits?”

“They’re _muscles,_ ” Youngjae explains. “And I told you, I’m Nightwing.”

“What even is that?” Bambam scoffs.

“The first Robin that Batman basically adopted as a son? Dick Grayson?” Yugyeom makes a pained noise when there’s no sign of recognition in Bambam’s eyes. “Why did we agree to a superheroes theme when Bambam’s involved?”

“He watches the movies,” Youngjae says. “So...at least there’s that?”

Yugyeom heaves a deep sigh. “A disgrace.”

“What’s a disgrace is your skinny ass trying to fill out a superhero costume,” Bambam grumbles. “Do some squats, you concave bitch.”

“Like you have any room to talk,” Yugyeom fires back.

“Hey, now,” Youngjae intervenes. “Be nice. At least neither of you is Jaebum.”

That gets a laugh out of all of them. Jaebum’s a favorite target for their jokes, so long as he isn’t in earshot. The rest of their trick-or-treating run is spent in cycles of bitching at each other as they walk and then smiling beatifically at strangers once they reach their doors. They get asked exactly how old they are more often than they’re asked what their costumes are, but the heavy buckets of candy they lug back to Bambam’s house by the end of the night make it all worth it.

“What do we do now?” Yugyeom asks between bites of the only king-sized candy bar he’d gotten all evening. Really, what’s the point of living in a rich neighborhood if all the adults are so stingy with their treats?

“We could just go home,” Youngjae suggests. “I just got this new ergonomic keyboard for gaming and — ”

“You can game any night of the year, Jae,” Bambam says, throwing an orange circus peanut at his face for emphasis. It’s not like anyone’s going to eat it anyway. “It’s Halloween. Live a little.”

“So I’ll eat my Halloween candy while my ass is parked in front of my computer,” Youngjae grumbles. “This _is_ how I live.”

“If you’re so dead set on ‘living a little,’ why don’t you make some suggestions, Bam?” Yugyeom says. “Because watching cartoons and eating candy until I’m sick honestly sounds like a fine end to the night.”

“ _Well._ ” Bambam sits up straight as if he’s been waiting to be prompted. Knowing him, he probably has. “I heard there’s a party just a couple blocks over at someone’s house. Their parents are out of town or whatever, I don’t really know or care, but the main point is” — He flourishes his fingers dramatically. — “ _house party._ ”

“That sounds like a bad idea,” Youngjae says dubiously. “Can’t we just raid Yugyeom’s parents’ liquor cabinet again and get drunk in the peace of our own homes?”

“No,” Yugyeom cuts in. “No drinking my parents’ booze. Do you know how guilty I felt for weeks after that? My mom asked me what I wanted for breakfast like two days later and I just said, ‘Sorry.’”

“So we drink someone else’s booze,” Bambam says easily. “At the party. A perfect solution.”

Youngjae sighs. “I don’t wanna take care of your drunk asses, though.”

“I’ll take care of my own drunk ass,” Bambam replies. “So are you in or not?”

Youngjae wavers, looking between the other two.

Bambam slides closer to Youngjae and whispers, “I’ll let you have some of my candy.”

Youngjae’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Really,” Bambam confirms.

“Well.” Youngjae raises his eyebrows at Yugyeom. “Do you wanna go?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “Sure, why the hell not?”

Bambam whoops in victory. “Gyeom might not wanna borrow from his parents — ”

“It’s not borrowing if you never give it back, Bam — ”

“ — but I don’t have that problem,” Bambam says as if Yugyeom hadn’t even spoken. “Pregame!”

Yugyeom takes a deep breath and resigns himself to a long night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The party they end up at is crowded from the second they walk in, clearly the house of someone popular enough — or maybe just rich enough — to end up feeling like half the school is packed into the residence. Immediately, Bambam gets them all drinks, even though they probably don’t need them after the shots they’d snuck beforehand.

“Well, would you look at that,” Bambam yells directly into his ear. The music is loud, but not _that_ loud; it’s just that drunk Bambam has even more problems with volume control than sober Bambam.

“Look at what?” Yugyeom turns in the direction Bambam is pointing, and his stomach sinks as he sees a very familiar face making its way through the crowd. “Oh, Jesus.”

But before he can suggest they make their way to somewhere else, anywhere else but directly in the path of the seniors, Bambam screeches at an inhuman volume, “Get a load of these assholes!”

Jinyoung’s eyes snap to them and Yugyeom wants to sink into the floor. God, why didn’t he wear a different costume? Why’d he pick something so childish?

By contrast, Jinyoung looks dashing. A white open-collared shirt that shows more skin that Yugyeom’s ever seen from him, tight jeans, black boots, and a red sash tied around his waist as a belt. Yugyeom swallows hard — the clothing clings to Jinyoung’s body in a way that his normal sweaters and jeans don’t, and it’s drawing Yugyeom’s eyes to the tuck of his waist and the thickness of his thighs.

“We should — Bam, we should go dance or something,” Yugyeom says desperately, trying to tug at Bambam’s arm.

“Why?” Bambam asks, as if it isn’t perfectly obvious why Yugyeom wants to escape.

“Because he’s — _here,_ ” Yugyeom hisses. “Why the hell is he here?”

Logically, the answer is that this party seems to be quite popular and Jinyoung is popular himself. Yugyeom knows this, but he’s still inordinately annoyed at the universe.

He finds himself shifting his irritation from the universe to his best friend, though, as Bambam replies, “Well, obviously he’s here. It’s his party. Duh.”

“It’s his — ” Yugyeom’s voice breaks off with a wheeze. “It’s his _party?_ Bam, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh, God,” Youngjae says from Bambam’s other side. “Oh, no, this is not what I wanted to do tonight, no amount of candy is worth watching seven years’ worth of shit hit the fan — ”

“It’s not shit hitting the fan,” Bambam argues.

“You’re right,” Yugyeom says firmly. “No shit is hitting the fan because I’m not letting it.” He knocks back his drink, too sugary and too strong at the same time and making his eyes water and the back of his throat tingle. “I’m gonna dance,” he informs his friends, pointedly not looking back in Jinyoung’s direction.

Yugyeom doesn’t wait for a response before he’s slipping through the crowd away from them, moving easily despite his size because he’s tall enough to see over most of the crowd. He’s not really that mad at Bambam, just frustrated. This whole thing has been dragged out for years for a reason, and that’s because Jinyoung clearly doesn’t want to actually do anything about it. Even if he likes Yugyeom — something that Yugyeom can’t be sure of, with how opaque Jinyoung’s behavior is — he hasn’t made a move even though he’s older and more popular and just...everything. He’s everything Yugyeom could want in a boyfriend, except he doesn’t like Yugyeom back.

Yugyeom staggers slightly as he tries to set down his empty cup and ends up missing the table by a couple inches. Oh, he realizes. That’s why he’s being mopey and defeatist. Damn alcohol.

Well, there’s a clear solution for this. And all Yugyeom has to do is step closer to the middle of the crowd and start moving to the beat that’s pounding through the house.

It doesn’t take long for someone to start dancing with him, pressing up against his back. Yugyeom supposes that’s an advantage to being extremely visible and actually able to move his body in something more than an uncoordinated head bob.

It’s nice, Yugyeom guesses. It’s not like it’s particularly sexy, especially with how aggressive the guy is being with his hips until it’s more like he’s repeatedly bumping into Yugyeom than dancing on him, but he can appreciate the simple fun of vaguely moving along to the same beat as another person.

Suddenly, the guy jumps back like he’s been burned, and Yugyeom can barely make out the edges of curse words over the pound of the bass. He turns to see the man’s white shirt now bearing a huge stain down the side, visible even in the low lighting, and right next to him —

Jinyoung with an empty cup in his hand.

“Oops,” Jinyoung mouths. He shrugs and gives the guy the fakest smile Yugyeom’s ever seen from him.

The guy just scowls at Jinyoung, not sparing Yugyeom a second glance before he stalks off, probably to rinse it out as best he can before it sets.

Yugyeom looks to Jinyoung again only to see the older boy about to slip back into the crowd. Without thinking, he grabs his elbow, pulling him back and saying, “Wait.”

Jinyoung looks frozen, the most emotional response Yugyeom’s gotten out of him in years. “I should — ” He gestures vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “ — go do host stuff.”

“It can wait for one dance, can’t it?” Yugyeom whines. He’s painfully aware of how petulant he sounds, but he has just enough alcohol in his system not to care anymore.

Apparently, Jinyoung does too. Either that, or there’s something about the hazy atmosphere of a party that makes him let Yugyeom reel him in until they’re face-to-face. They aren’t pressed too close yet, not until Yugyeom yanks on Jinyoung’s wrist one more time and makes him stumble forward into his chest. He’s taller than Jinyoung now, he realizes. Funny — he’s always thought Jinyoung seems like the biggest person in the room, even when he’s standing next to Jaebum.

Jinyoung’s movements are stiff, like he’s holding back, and Yugyeom guides Jinyoung’s hands to his hips.

Yugyeom leans in to say, “Stop thinking so hard.” At this proximity, he gets a whiff of Jinyoung’s body spray, or maybe it’s his deodorant; either way, it smells clean but warm, and Yugyeom is just tipsy enough that he lets himself drop his chin to Jinyoung’s shoulder instead of pulling back like he should. “God, you’re so _tense._ ”

“I wonder why,” Jinyoung mutters, and Yugyeom isn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that over the music.

“Tension is bad,” Yugyeom tells him. “You gotta — gotta go with the flow when you’re dancing.” He sways to the beat, trying to tug Jinyoung along with him by placing his hands on Jinyoung’s upper arms. “Like _wooo._ ”

“Like _wooo,_ huh?” Jinyoung asks. He sounds amused and there’s a little starburst of pride in Yugyeom’s chest at the idea that he may have made Jinyoung laugh.

Yugyeom pulls back slightly, wanting to see for himself if he’s actually made Jinyoung smile, and he’s met with the site of fond eye crinkles and lips pressed together in a failed attempt to hide a laugh.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom says. “That’s the official term. I dance. I totally know what I’m talking about.”

Jinyoung can’t hold back his laugh at that and Yugyeom feels a grin split his own face at the sight. God, everything is so much easier when he’s drunk. He should definitely be drunk all the time when he’s around Jinyoung. That’s the obvious solution here. Maybe then he’d finally have the guts to do something.

For now, the alcohol gives him the confidence to reel Jinyoung in just a little closer so they can move together, sometimes touching, sometimes simply just sharing space. Yugyeom lets himself go, probably a little too enthusiastic and loose-limbed, but it draws another laugh out of Jinyoung, so he can’t bring himself to regret it.

With every giggle or smile, Jinyoung loosens up, letting himself sway along with Yugyeom and swing closer. He’s always been pretty, at least in a distant kind of way, like cool impenetrable stained glass, but now his cheeks are flushed and crinkled with a smile and he looks —

“Cute,” Yugyeom mumbles.

Jinyoung quirks his head, turning so his ear is facing Yugyeom. “What’d you say?”

Yugyeom lurches slightly closer, almost knocking their noses together. “Cute,” he says again. “An’ pretty.”

And that, for whatever reason, makes Jinyoung stiffen back up again. “You’re drunk,” he says as lowly as he can while still being audible over the music. “You — You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I do too know,” Yugyeom says petulantly. “Just trying to dance with you.”

“Just,” Jinyoung repeats with a laugh, but it’s not the warm, happy laugh from earlier.

Yugyeom frowns, not sure what he’s done wrong. “You don’t wanna dance?”

“Not just — ” Jinyoung makes a frustrated noise and steps back. “I’m — I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Wait — ” Yugyeom tries to say, but Jinyoung melts into the crowd too quickly for Yugyeom’s fumbling fingers to grab at his shirt. He loses him for a moment before he looks over and sees Jinyoung making his way up the stairs to the second story.

With determination simmering in his veins — or maybe just alcohol, if he’s completely honest with himself — Yugyeom sets off after Jinyoung. At the start of the night, he’d been uncertain of where they stood with each other, but leaned more toward assuming that he’s been deluding himself into thinking something was there. But now —

Now, he has the memory of Jinyoung warm against him and his voice low in his ear, and he feels a little brave or maybe a little stupid. Maybe both. It doesn’t matter, really. All that matters is that he’s squeezing through the crowd as quickly as he can and then stumbling up the stairs.

He realizes a flaw in his plan once he reaches the relatively more peaceful second floor — he has no fucking clue which door leads to the bathroom. Hazarding a guess, he goes for the first door on his right and finds —

“Youngjae?” He squints at the two figures on the bed. “ _Jaebum?_ ”

“This — It isn’t what it looks like,” Jaebum says frantically. He and Youngjae are sitting on the edge of the mattress, angled toward each other and so close their knees are bumping.

Yugyeom leans heavily against the doorjamb. “What’s it supposed to look like?” he asks, confused. “What’re you doing?”

“We’re about to fuck,” Jaebum says at the same time Youngjae says, “Talking about comic book lore.”

“Comic books?” Yugyeom blinks. “I love comic books.”

“So does Jaebum,” Youngjae says enthusiastically. He turns to the older boy, who’s slouched over on himself with his arms crossed. “Right?”

“It’s — They’re all right, I guess,” Jaebum says sullenly.

“He’s the first person all night who’s actually recognized my costume,” Youngjae says happily. Yugyeom can tell he’s feeling the alcohol he’s had because his already cheerful disposition has turned downright bubbly, even in the face of a sulking Jaebum. “And he’s Batman! So it’s almost like a couples costume!”

Jaebum sputters at that. “It’s — It’s not a couples costume, I’m your _father_ — ”

“Not literally, though.” Youngjae swats Jaebum’s shoulder in a way that’s probably meant to be light and playful but ends up closer to a forceful push. “I mean, if we’re going by the comic books, you’d have to marry Bambam.”

“Oh, god,” Jaebum says weakly.

“That’s how most people act when I bring up dating Bambam,” Youngjae says. “You know, this one time — ”

Yugyeom watches as Youngjae keeps chattering brightly away to Jaebum, whose gaze is turned on Youngjae with the kind of intensity that’s always scared Yugyeom. But maybe — maybe all those glares over the years weren’t really as threatening as Yugyeom had read them, because right now, Jaebum’s eyes are laser-focused on Youngjae as he takes in every word he says.

Yugyeom steps back as quietly as he can with his clumsy feet and closes the door. So. That’s not where Jinyoung went.

He tries another door and nearly takes a Swiffer handle to the nose when it turns out to be an overcrowded closet. Another door and he sees far more action than he’s ever actually gotten in his life. One more door, he tells himself. He’ll just try one more time, and if it’s not Jinyoung, it’s fine, it clearly wasn’t meant to be and he should stop chasing after a guy who runs away every time he gets too close —

Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s destiny. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the last door on the second story and logically the only place Jinyoung could be.

Whatever it is, Jinyoung is standing there, hands gripping the side of the sink and head hung between his shoulders, not even looking at his reflection. His hair is still pushed back off his forehead, but it looks damper now, like he’s splashed water on his face and run it through his hair.

“Jinyoung,” Yugyeom says, a little too loudly for the small room.

Jinyoung jumps slightly and then scrabbles to turn on the taps and start washing his hands. “Don’t mind me,” he says brusquely. “I’ll be gone in just a second — ”

“No, I was — was looking for you,” Yugyeom says. He takes another step into the bathroom and closes the door with a quiet click. “You left.”

Jinyoung sighs. “Yeah. I did.”

“Why?” Yugyeom asks, painfully aware of how his voice is whinier than he wants to admit.

“Because,” Jinyoung says as he leans forward and turns off the faucet with jerky movements, and he sounds — he sounds his age, really, sounds like a teenager avoiding a question with petulance and pouting.

“That’s not an answer, Yugyeom insists.

“It’s enough of one,” Jinyoung says stubbornly. “It’s not important, anyway.”

“It’s important to me,” Yugyeom says. “I don’t — I don’t _get_ you, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung snorts. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like I can’t tell when you’re being real,” Yugyeom says. “I don’t know if you’re trying to — make a point, or whatever, or if you’re just — just not even — ”

“You’re not making any sense,” Jinyoung says tersely, but his knuckles are white where his hands are curled like claws into the countertop. “Just don’t think about it.”

“I can’t,” Yugyeom bursts out. “I can’t not think about it when you’re so — so — ”

Jinyoung stands up straight and wheels around to look Yugyeom in the eye as he demands, “So _what?_ ”

“Confusing!” Yugyeom takes a step closer, moving into Jinyoung’s space now that they’re actually facing each other. “Just — Just so hot-and-cold and hard to read and — and I don’t even know what to believe is real with you, I really don’t — ”

“Like what?” Jinyoung narrows his eyes, taking a step forward of his own so he can squint up into Yugyeom’s face. “What about me isn’t _real_ to you?”

“Like that night at the retreat.” As soon as Yugyeom says the words, his gut feels like he’s taken a curve too fast, like the accelerator is on the floor and he’s cranking the steering wheel as far as he can and he’s still skidding along further than he’d ever planned on going.

But Jinyoung blinks, mouth falling open slightly, and he looks wide-eyed and young and like Yugyeom’s taken him by surprise too. He looks not so different from the boy Yugyeom had stared in the face and told off.

So Yugyeom keeps going.

“I — I’m not talking about the prank,” he says, more quietly now. Jinyoung winces almost imperceptibly at the mention of what the older boys had done to Yugyeom. “I mean...afterward. You know.”

Jinyoung remains silent, looking off to the side now. He taps his fingers restlessly against the countertop, his nails not long enough to click against it so the sound is muted and faint.

Yugyeom swallows in the face of Jinyoung’s unresponsiveness. “You — You do know what I’m talking about, right?”

Jinyoung’s eyes fall to the floor, but he doesn’t step back. Yugyeom tries to discern what he’s thinking from what little he can see of his face — the curve of his bushy brows, the button of his nose, the half of his bottom lip that isn’t being bitten raw. It feels like he’s trying to do a puzzle with half the pieces facing the wrong way up.

Jinyoung takes a deep breath, his eyes still downcast instead of meeting Yugyeom’s. “Are you still scared of the dark?” he asks abruptly.

“I — ” Yugyeom blanches, the simple question sending his mind tripping over itself to make sense of it. “I only said that — you mean — ”

The next few moments feel like an eternity, as if time is dripping slowly like honey. Jinyoung comes even closer, so close Yugyeom can see the dainty feather of his lashes across his cheekbones and a tiny acne scar on his nose. He reaches out, and Yugyeom feels his heart pound so hard against his ribcage he swears Jinyoung can hear it. Jinyoung’s hand passes by him and reaches for the wall, and Yugyeom freezes, unsure.

And then the light goes out.

The first thought that enters Yugyeom’s mind is _stupid._ He’s being stupid, he’s been stupid for seven years to think that Jinyoung is somehow harboring some hidden softness beneath his carefully polished exterior. He’s been a fool, for Jinyoung and in general, and now he’s going to pay the price, the door is going to open and there are going to be boys laughing at him all over again and —

His thoughts grind to a halt when he feels something touch his cheek, right by his nose. He almost yells, but the sound catches in his throat when he feels a gentle puff of breath against his chin. All he can manage is a small _wha—_ that trails off into a shaky exhale.

And that’s when Jinyoung kisses him.

Yugyeom’s mind goes from racing to empty in the space of a second. He's spent so long thinking about Jinyoung, wondering about him, and now — now he just gets to feel him, and his brain can't quite seem to catch up as he stands frozen.

Jinyoung's lips are dry but warm against his, chaste and closed like kids on a playground. It seems like an eternity that they stand there in the dark, nothing but the soft brush of lips against each other to ground them. But it can't be that long before Jinyoung is hesitantly pulling back, still close enough for Yugyeom to hear his breathing.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, the puff of each syllable against Yugyeom's lips feeling almost like a kiss anew. "I thought — "

And finally, Yugyeom stutters back into motion, nudging forward until their lips bump against each other with their noses knocking and Jinyoung lets out the tiniest, softest gasp before it’s lost in another kiss, one where they’re both participating this time.

It doesn't feel like it's real, but at the same time, the sensations are vivid in a way that overwhelms him. That's really Jinyoung's mouth opening against his, really his tongue wet and gentle against Yugyeom's, really his fingers tentatively curling against Yugyeom's chest.

Yugyeom tilts his head just slightly to deepen the kiss and Jinyoung blossoms beneath him beautifully. His lips are as full and soft as Yugyeom’s always imagined, giving when Yugyeom presses closer and plush when he sucks at the lower one. He can feel the way Jinyoung tries to grip the front of his costume when their tongues drag against each other and he giggles a little into the kiss, his hands coming up to Jinyoung’s waist and tangling in the sash there.

“What’re you laughing at?” Jinyoung whispers, the words almost lost to the faint pound of music from below.

“You’re cute,” Yugyeom informs him.

Jinyoung makes an offended noise, a little scoff that Yugyeom can feel against his own lips. “You can’t even see me right now. The lights are out.”

“I’m not talking about how you look, _duh._ ” Yugyeom’s hold on the sash tightens. “You do look really cute too, though. Or you did, when we were dancing earlier.” He leans in for another kiss and Jinyoung meets him eagerly, but he pulls back after just a moment.

There’s a whiny edge to Jinyoung’s voice when he says, “Why do you keep — ”

“When we were dancing,” Yugyeom interrupts, and Jinyoung falls silent immediately. “You got mad when I said I just wanted to dance with you.”

Jinyoung sighs, warm and light. “Just,” he says, the same as he had right before he ran away. “I — I didn’t want you to be just another person who thinks I’m cute and wants to only stick around for a little while. Not after we’ve been...like this for so long.”

“Like this?”

“I mean, from my end, or I guess — ” Jinyoung breaks off with a frustrated huff. “I didn’t know. If you blamed me, still, or even hated me or thought I was a bad person.”

“I didn’t know what to think,” Yugyeom admits. “I mean, I thought I did, once you came down to my bunk, but then afterward — ”

“I didn’t know what the others would think,” Jinyoung says lowly. “And you see how we are with each other. I mean, they’re my best friends, but they’re — ”

“ — kinda assholes,” Yugyeom says. “I mean, loving assholes. But still.”

“But still,” Jinyoung agrees. “And — And you’d also been so — ” He takes a deep breath and his head drops, his forehead brushing against Yugyeom’s. “You said I was the worst. And I didn’t know if I could come back from that.”

“I was really mad at you,” Yugyeom confesses. “More than the other guys.”

“Wow, that totally makes me feel better.”

“But it was mostly because I — ” Yugyeom cringes. “Okay, you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t laugh,” Jinyoung says. “Because we both know how that went last time.” Yugyeom is about to protest when Jinyoung adds, “But I promise I won’t tell.”

“Should we spit shake on it?” Yugyeom teases.

He feels a shudder run through Jinyoung’s body. “Please, god, never again.”

Yugyeom grins. “We could swap spit other ways, then.”

There’s a slap at Yugyeom’s side as Jinyoung groans. “Just tell me the thing.”

Yugyeom feels the grin slide off his face. “Okay,” he says weakly. “I was the angriest at you because...I really wanted to be your friend. Like, more than I wanted to be friends with the other guys. I, uh — I signed up to be in your van on purpose.” His voice has been getting quieter and quieter, smaller and smaller with every word until the last sentence is barely a whisper. “I really, really liked you.”

The silence hangs between them. He can hear Jinyoung swallow before he speaks.

“If it makes it any better,” he says, “I’ve really liked you too. For a while now.”

It’s stupid, Yugyeom thinks, that even after he’s kissed Jinyoung, hearing it out loud that Jinyoung actually likes him and he isn’t just making it up in his head — it makes giddy warmth spread through his gut. He wraps his arms tighter around Jinyoung’s waist and presses a hard kiss to his lips, earning a surprised squawk from Jinyoung.

“I’d kind of hoped,” Yugyeom says breathlessly. “Actually, I really hoped, but I was so sure it was all in my head.”

“What was?” Jinyoung asks, sounding bemused.

“The stuff,” Yugyeom replies. “You know, the stuff you’d do for me.”

“Like what?”

“Like — Like the library fines!”

“That could’ve just been the librarian,” Jinyoung says shiftily, sounding embarrassed.

“Or when the other guys tried to pick on me, or — ” Yugyeom pouts as he tries to think, still struggling with Jinyoung’s elusiveness even as he’s holding him in his arms. Eventually, he gives up and whines, “Don’t be like this, not when you just admitted you like me.”

“Augh, it’s so weird to hear out loud,” Jinyoung complains. “And I had to do that stuff, anyway.”

“What do you mean, you had to?”

“I mean, I made a promise, right?” Jinyoung mutters. “I said I’d protect you.” There’s a pause, and Jinyoung continues, “Please say something, I can’t see your face and it makes me nervous when you go quiet and — _mmph!_ ”

The kiss Yugyeom plants on Jinyoung’s lips is probably a little overly enthusiastic from the get-go, using the slight height advantage he has to bend Jinyoung back a little. A thrill runs through him as he squeezes Jinyoung’s slender waist, and he presses closer, savoring the line of Jinyoung’s lean body against his. Jinyoung lets out a tiny noise that Yugyeom swallows eagerly, and he melts in Yugyeom’s hold, arms wrapping around his neck to pull them tighter together. Yugyeom walks him backward until they hit the vanity, trapping Jinyoung between his body and the counter. It’s a little too warm, a little too close, and maybe a little too wet, but Yugyeom doesn’t mind any of it, not when Jinyoung’s nipping at his lower lip and his fingers are sliding into his hair and Yugyeom’s hands are dropping to the generous curve of Jinyoung’s hip —

And of course, that’s when the door bangs open, light streaming in from the hallway, throwing into sharp contrast the silhouette of —

“Come _on,_ ” Jaebum whines. “Jinyoung, this is literally your house, can’t you make out someplace people don’t need to piss?”

Jinyoung slouches down on the counter, hiding his face in Yugyeom’s neck. “Go away,” he says, voice muffled. “There’s a bathroom downstairs.”

“There’s a bathroom right here,” Jaebum grumbles. “This isn’t just a dick move, it’s unhygienic. I hope you get toilet water on your clothes.” He continues to gripe under his breath, presumably similarly uncharitable things, as he trudges away in search of an unoccupied bathroom.

“Wow,” Yugyeom says after a few moments. “He really knows how to break a mood, doesn’t he?”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “I would say it’s because he isn’t getting any action so he’s getting in the way of everyone else any, but he’s just...like that.”

“So I guess that’s just how all of you are, then?” Yugyeom says faux innocently. “Really lame once people get to know you?”

“I’m not _lame,_ ” Jinyoung protests. The light from the hallway casts shadows on his face, emphasizing the chubbiness of his cheek and the slightly puffy curve of his eyelid. Maybe eight-year-old Yugyeom hadn’t been so wrong after all — Jinyoung is pretty soft.

“You’re at least a little lame,” Yugyeom insists. “But you’re a good kisser, so I guess it’s okay.”

Jinyoung splutters, but Yugyeom cuts him off with another kiss. They went too long without talking things through — it probably could’ve saved them both a hell of a lot of headache and heartache — but they’ve done enough talking for tonight.

Besides, he’s got plenty of missed opportunities for kissing to make up for, too.

So, he grabs Jinyoung under his thighs, giggling at the yelp it earns him, and starts making up for lost time.


End file.
